


Treespotting

by madcowmama



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, brittana fic, future!sugar, gleerant, sugar from the future verse, world on a string
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madcowmama/pseuds/madcowmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2037, after Cozytimes. Santana and Brittany take the family to the Christmas tree farm. Sugar is 14, little brother Charlie is 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treespotting

Her duck boots squinch up to her ankles into the moss as her brother climbs onto her shoulders. Her moms have been coming to this tree farm every year as long as they've been in New York. That means she's been here thirteen times before, maybe ten she remembers, and Charlie — this is his fourth. All the other times, everything's been frozen and snowy, crisp and cold. This year it's raining. It's been raining for days, and the moss is just sodden.

This morning, before light, he'd crept into her bed and wrapped her arm around him. — _What's wrong, Charlie? Nightmare?_ — He'd taken her fingers and touched them to his temple. — _I'm taking the nightmare right out of your head, Baby. There it goes._ — She'd kept teasing the nightmare out of his temple and flicking it away, until he'd gone back to sleep.

At the tree farm, Charlie scrambles up — _Dude, you are so heavy!_ — and he scouts. They've left their parents behind, but they'll all catch up. Mom has the saw and the ensolite to kneel on so they don't get soaked, and Mama has the camera. Charlie still doesn't talk, but he always finds the best tree ever. He taps her head twice and points. She looks up and trudges off in the direction he's pointing.

She has to keep a lookout for Santana and Brittany, and she has to keep a lookout for the perfect tree he's spotted, and she has to keep a lookout for puddles deeper than the plastic part of her duck boots, but she follows the treespotter's directions. Maybe it's the vantage point from her shoulders, maybe it's a sixth sense or something, but Charlie always knows. Three taps. Five taps. He takes her head in his hands and turns it toward the perfect tree. She turns. Squinch. Ooh, near-freezing water starts seeping into her boot. Charlie pops up, waving his hands and overbalancing them both into the puddle.

And yes, it's perfect. — _Mom! Mama! Charlie found it!_


End file.
